


Beautiful People

by AshleyMarie123



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Mid-Sex Candy Break, Quentin Coldwater Deserved Better, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2020-11-24 03:01:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20900564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshleyMarie123/pseuds/AshleyMarie123
Summary: A purely self-indulgent fluff story. Eliot planned what he hopes is the perfect date night for Quentin - a bit of a challenge due to their inherently different personalities.It's a lot of fluff, ya'll. We deserve fluff. Oh and there will be some bangin'. Fluff and banging. Flanging?





	1. You Look Stunning, Dear

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! Long time reader, first time writer. I have been wanting to post a story for a while and am a little overwhelmed with all of the half-baked ideas floating around in my head. I have a few stories in mind with like, actual plots, but am still fleshing them out. I also really wanted to write some fluffy scenes so this little work was born to indulge my craving of fluff-without-angst. And honestly, as Magicians fans, we deserve that. I'm not saying that John and Sera queerbaited us, but actually I am and I truly despise them for it. 
> 
> This work was originally supposed to be a one-shot but I just kept writing so it will be another chapter or two long. 
> 
> This is my very first time posting a story, so I would really really appreciate any constructive criticism. Truly! I know I have a lot of growth to go through as a writer and there are so many really wonderful authors in this fandom. I appreciate any pointers/suggestions/tips you would like to provide. 
> 
> Title and chapter titles from "Beautiful People" by Ed Sheeran and Khalid. Dream team <3
> 
> World notes: everything up until 4x13 is cannon except very obviously for Quentin's death. Quentin and Eliot got together shortly after Eliot and Quentin's healing post-Monster. Because Eliot was brave this time around. 
> 
> Enjoy !

“Margo, I just don’t get why he feels the need to go all out on these dates for me. I appreciate the sentiment but I don’t need all this fancy stuff. I know he cares about me he doesn’t need to like… show off to me. I don’t even like all this fancy stuff – Ow! Fucking come on Margo, that hurts!” Quentin winced as Margo pulled his hair too tightly.

“Good. You were fucking pissing me off. Now you’re in pain and not saying anything annoying so I’m happy again. Order is restored.” Margo replied as she continued to muse his hair and collect it into the elastic band on her wrist.

“How… Jesus I didn’t say anything worthy of pissing you off. Sorry for sharing my feelings.” Quentin huffed.

Margo surveyed Quentin’s hair from behind him in the mirror, brushed back perfectly smooth into a nub of a bun. She clicked her tongue and wrinkled her nose.

“He’s right. It does look better messy. I fucking hate when he’s right.” With that, Margo roughly pulled the elastic from Quentin’s hair, slid it back on her wrist, and began to fluff his hair with her fingers. Before he could complain about the rough treatment of his scalp she began to speak again.

“I don’t know how you don’t get it, Q. You are such a fucking child sometimes. Relationships aren’t always about making Quentin happy, though I know that’s a major concern of yours. They’re about compromise. Have you met Eliot before? He **likes** this shit. He likes getting dressed up and being seen and pretending he’s part of the in-crowd. He likes wooing you even though he already has you. This is how Eliot woos.” She completed her tirade by pulling a few pieces of hair from the bun so they came out of the elastic enough to give some volume.

“Margo I get it’s how he woos –“

“Quentin, listen.” Margo said, softer than normal. This was the Margo-is-about-to-have-a-serious-conversation-without-profanity that Quentin recognized and knew it was best to immediately close his mouth as these conversations were her bi-annual outpouring of emotion.

“I know you don’t like this shit. _Eliot_ knows you don’t like this shit. But he can’t help himself sometimes. You know how he grew up.” She gave him a pointed look. Quentin nodded slightly, eyes shifting down and his right hand unconsciously raising to tuck the single piece of loose hair behind his ear. Margo smacked his hand before it even reached chest-height.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” She snipped. She patted the strand like she was fixing it though Quentin hadn’t even touched it.

“The life Eliot is living now… this is his dream Q. Eliot grew up somewhere where he was beaten for being who he is. Disowned. He lived for years hating himself. A life where he can get dressed up and take a boy he loves outside and show him off and touch him and kiss him without having to look over his shoulder every two seconds? All while being in the “big city”? Quentin, Eliot is living in his Fillory. He just gets caught up in it sometimes. Being able to do this with you? You can’t even begin to comprehend how much joy this gives him Q. I’ve never seen him like this. You know how happy you make him. Being able to live out this fantasy with you Q…. it’s more than he could ever imagine for himself. He knows you hate it Q, he really does. But can you just not fight it, just once? Please let him have this night?” Margo finished, not looking Quentin in the eye. She had come around to kneel in front of him, running her fingers across his scalp to complete the messy bun look she had created. She let out a breath and their eyes met. Quentin could only hold her gaze for a second before he looked away.

“You’re right. I – I know. I just never really frame it that way when I’m thinking about it. I just get so nervous. I feel like it’s a world I don’t belong in. Eliot is so… like, you know, graceful and stuff. I feel like a fraud when I’m all dressed up like this, like he is going to figure out that I’m like, actually this huge nerd that he doesn’t want to drag along anymore.”

“Q, he knows you’re a fuckin’ nerd.” Margo said with an eye roll as she straightened up. She tugged gently on his navy blue button down, silently asking him to stand up too. She positioned him in front of the mirror before walking across the room.

“And that’s why he loves you. Well, one of the reasons. Apparently you also take his dick really –”

“Margo!” Quentin screeched, face turning a few shades of red as he spun around to face her, horrified.

“Oh the things I know, puppy.” She grinned as she walked towards him with a grey-khaki colored tweed suit jacket laying across her arm.

“Jesus, Margo.” He signed, closing his eyes as Margo came behind him and guided the jacket on to him. He opened his eyes and gazed at her in the mirror as she ran her hands along the back of his jacket, smoothing out any wrinkles. She started on his arms and began to walk around him. She continued to smooth his jacket silently. When she finished they locked eyes again and she stilled her hands.

“Q, nothing your dorky, socially anxious ass can do can make him think any less of you. He knows what he has. He loves you. He really does Q, I promise you. I know I give you shit and I’m like… 13% sorry about it. I’m so protective of him that sometimes forget that you’re not my enemy and you occasionally require just as much coddling as he does.”

“You coddle Eliot?” he responded incredulously. Margo smirked.

“I coddle based on my audience.” She replied, pulling the lapels of his jacket a little to even them out.

“You will never disappoint him. You can’t. Be as anxious and freaked as you want. He loves when your cheeks get red.” She got onto her tiptoes to give him a kiss on the cheek.

“But,” She continued rolling back onto her feet, “Can you please just give him these dates without fighting every once in a while? Just for like 30 minutes let him be in the midst of his fantasy without whining about it?”

Quentin sighed again. “Tie or no tie?” He asked in response.

Margo beamed. “No tie.” She responded, giving him another kiss on the cheek.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Well El, I don’t know how I did it but I turned this sow’s ear into a silk purse!” Margo announced as she bounded down the stairs of the Cottage to the first floor. Quentin rolled his eyes as he descend the stairs after her. He reached the level to gain view of the entire room just in time to see Margo jump into Eliot’s arms and him spin them around.

“Oh Bambi, please don’t say that. I always think you’re a silk purse.” He said before kissing her on the lips. She smacked his chest but smiled into the kiss. Quentin reached the bottom of the stairs as they pulled apart.

Margo made a trumpeting announcement noise as Eliot looked up to see Quentin walk into the room.

“My masterpiece!” she declared as Quentin and Eliot met each other’s gaze.

“Sorry I don’t have Margo’s room bounding capabilities.” Quentin said sheepishly, lifting his hand to try to run his fingers through his hair. A small book hit him in the stomach as his hand reached his shoulder.

“Fucking paws off the hair, Coldwater.” Margo screeched. Quentin telekinetically returned the book to the shelf while muttering “Jesus, Margo”.

“Bambi, please don’t assault my gorgeous boyfriend.” Eliot said, eyes never leaving Quentin as he took the 5 steps across the room to gather Quentin in his arms. With his hands on Quentin’s waist he pulled him in and brushed their noses together.

“You are so beautiful.” He whispered before closing his eyes and leaning in to give Quentin a soft kiss. Quentin’s hands immediately went to Eliot’s neck.

“Jesus, you two have been in different rooms for like, two hours. You weren’t off fighting a war. El he doesn’t even look that cute. Ugh you two are gross.” Margo then cackled as Eliot took one of his hands from Quentin’s waist to twist it around and flipped her off.

“Ugh whatever. Have a fun night. Mama’s gonna rub one out in the bath and watch X-Files. Night losers.” She said before strolling towards the stairs.

“Jesus Margo.” Quentin pulled away from Eliot’s lips to groan. Eliot chuckled as he pressed his forehead against Quentin’s temple then kissed his jaw softly.

“That’s our Bambi.” He said between kisses.

“She is such a fucking weirdo.” Quentin complained, but Eliot started trailing kisses along his jaw to earlobe and Margo was promptly forgotten.

“You know I always love you, right?” Eliot breathed into Quentin’s ear before kissing along the shell of it.

Quentin’s breath caught at the sensation and it took all of his remaining focus to push out the single syllable “yes”.

“Good.” Elliot replied, kissing from his ear across his cheek then the tip of his nose before leaning their foreheads together.

“Then you know I always think you are incredibly sexy and amazingly hot no matter what you wear. Honestly, I would purchase every hoodie from every Target in the world for you if you wanted. But when you dress like this for me,” Eliot’s hands traveled up Quentin’s waist, up his sides, then found the lapels of his jacket to tug his body a little closer “Christ Q, you have no idea what it does to me.” Eliot closed his eyes before kissing Quentin on the lips once softly then pulling away.

Quentin blushed, looking down quickly before meeting Eliot’s gaze.

“I’m glad you like it. I actually really like this suit too. I bought it with Margo. It’s the first one I ever picked out that she approved of.” He chuckled.

“She thinks she is a fashionista. You really should go shopping with me, I’m sure I give better feedback. She wants to be Joan Rivers in her next life and is trying out all of her meanest material in this one.” Eliot smirked before taking another step backwards, which Quentin was about to protest before Eliot spoke.

“She was right about this one, though.”

Quentin blushed again. Eliot was standing back enough for Quentin to finally appreciate his look.

He was wearing a deep green three piece suit with a gold pocket watch linking his vest and jacket. His brown tie had threads of gold throughout. His hair was beautiful as always, curls styled to an effortless look that Quentin knew from experience took upwards of an hour. His eyes were also charcoaled and all of his rings adorned his long fingers.

“You know, I’m really happy with my view too. It’s pretty stunning.” Eliot, always poised Eliot, beamed. Quentin recognized the smile and look in his eyes. It was his truly giddy smile that only those closest to Eliot ever saw, the one he gave when he wasn’t trying to look unaffected. Quentin’s heart swelled. He and Margo were probably the only two people in the world to see that smile. Quentin drank it in before Eliot kissed his forehead. By the time he pulled away Eliot’s face was cool and collected as usual.

“This old thing? I only wear this when I don’t care how I look.” He grinned.

Quentin laughed as he grabbed Eliot’s hips and pulled him close. “Oh so you won’t care if I rip it off then, huh?” he said into Eliot’s neck as his hands slid under the jacket to his waist. 

“Mr. Coldwater, I don’t know what kind of boy you take me for, but I expect to be wined and dined before I’m ravished.” Eliot closed his eyes and let his head fall to the side to give Quentin more access to his neck.

“No you don’t.” Quentin breathed as his lips met his Adams apple.

Eliot started pushing Quentin towards the sofa and murmured out “Fuck you’re right, I don't.”

“Hey hey hey,” Quentin laughed, using every ounce of physical and mental strength he could muster not to be pushed onto the sofa. “If my ass hits those cushions I’m a goner, and I believe you were the one who was supposed to be wining and dining me this evening. Don’t think you are getting out of some top-tier wooing tonight.”

“Like you want to go out anyway.” Eliot retorted, his lips now on Quentin’s neck, willing him onto the sofa.

“I do!” Quentin urged Eliot back. He took a step back and coked an eyebrow.

“I mean like, OK. In a perfect world we never leave our bedroom and I just look at you naked 23 hours a day while fucking and reading and like, eating cheese or something.”

“23 hours?”

“Well, like, we’d have to go to the bathroom and stuff.” Quentin blushed and put a hand to the back of his neck. Eliot let out a guttural laugh. “Always so practical, my Q.” He kissed Quentin’s cheek.

“But anyway, yeah like in a perfect world to me we’d never leave the house. But that’s why we work right? You challenge me. You make me leave the house sometimes. I make you stay in sometimes. Balance, or whatever. I know you’re excited to try this restaurant. You’ve been talking about it for months. I’m excited to try it with you. Because I love you and I like getting to do things you like with you. Even if I whine sometimes…. all the time.” Quentin finished with a small smile.

Eliot’s face completely transformed from suave to overwhelmed. He looked so young. Quentin saw his glass over for a moment before he closed them, taking a beat to regain his composure. He looked so peaceful when he opened his eyes. He brought his hands up to Quentin’s face, thumb stroking his cheek. “Thank you baby, that means a lot to me.”

“You whine sometimes too, you know.” Quentin replied, leaning into Eliot’s palm. Eliot let out a chuckle. “Yeah I guess I do. I’ll be more mindful, hmm?”

Quentin turned his face into Eliot’s palm to place a kiss on it as he heard stomping on the stairs behind him. He glanced up to see Eliot’s amused, glittering eyes focusing on the staircase.

“I cannot believe you two fuckers are still standing here fucking gazing at each other. Cut it the fuck out and go the fuck outside. I can’t believe how lame you two are. I spent a fucking hour putting Coldwater together. You will NOT waste my time. Go _outside._ I don’t care if you just go to Woof. Get out of the fucking Cottage. Christ is this really what relationships are all about, standing around like overdressed statues? Count me out! UGH! Go away! This is my only night with the Cottage to myself and I want to use my new goddamn vibrator without hearing bitches complain.” The entire speech had been punctuated by muffled stomps.

Quentin had been watching Eliot’s amused face and fruitless attempts to interrupt the tirade and finally turned around to see Margo on the stairs wrapped in a towel and slippers on her feet.

“What do you say Q? You think we should low this popsicle stand?” Eliot smirked but gazing at Margo with love and amusement in his eyes.

“I guess I would prefer dinner over listening to Margo’s vibrator.” Quentin replied, turning to grab his wallet off of the side table.

“Fucking finally!” Margo stomped, crossing her arms over her chest as Eliot led Quentin to the portal on the side of the stairs.

“Do not let him fuck up his hair before you fuck him.” Margo offered as a goodbye as Eliot preformed the spell to open the portal.

“Practice safe masturbation, Bambi.” Eliot replied as he stepped through.

Margo winked and blew Quentin a kiss before turning on the balls of her feel and prancing up the stairs.

“Jesus Margo” He whispered as he stepped though.


	2. Surrounded, But Still Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The date commences! 
> 
> Feedback welcomed <3

“I just don’t get why you refuse to correctly differentiate Star Wars and Star Trek, El. Like the only similarities are that they both have Star in the title and take place in space. They’re so different other than that. It’s not that hard.” Quentin grumbled, with just a hint of fondness. He gently swung their clasped hands together as they walked, his attentions focused on the tops of the high rises they passed. 

“You know the only time I’ve ever watched an episode of either of them was with you, and I was a little less focused on the plot and a little more focused on getting in your pants, right?” Eliot countered with a soft squeeze of their hands. 

On cue, Quentin blushed and rolled his eyes. “That’s literally the only time I don’t want you focusing on getting into my pants. They’re both so good I’d really like you to at least give them a try.” 

“One day, baby. One day. Pinky promise.” Eliot loosened their hands and then immediately linked their pinkies as they walked. 

“Are we close to the restaurant? I’m really hungry. Margo wouldn’t let me snack while I got ready. I still don’t understand why.”

“When will you learn that she simply does things because she is a control freak tyrant and needs no reason to promote angst among the masses?”

“What a bitch.”

“I concur. A huge, fabulous, soul-sucking, perfect bitch. Anyway, yes we’re close. Just two more blocks. Want to stop at the Duane Reade on the corner for something to tide you over?”

“No I can manage two blocks. I just demand immediate bread service. I’m dressed ok for this place right? I feel like I’m not as dressy as you. Margo said no tie but you have a three piece suit on and I think I should have put a tie on but Margo said no tie so I was happy not to wear one but now I think maybe I should have just-” Quentin stopped babbling when Eliot places a gentle kiss to his temple. 

“You’re perfect, darling. You really think I will roll in with an under-dressed date on my arm? I do demand that whatever luckily gentleman caller I choose to associate myself with for an evening meets the dress code requirements of whatever fine dining establishment we are gracing with our presence, no matter how beautiful and perfect and sexy his face is.” 

“Would it kill you to just answer with a yes or no?” 

“You’re a nerd, I thought you appreciated the flowery descriptors.”

“You know one day you and Margo are going to hit some quota and I’m going to start being really offended by the term nerd.”

“But you’re my nerd.” Eliot replied, unlinking their pinkies so he could hold hands again, brought their joined hands to his lips and gave Quentin’s knuckles a kiss. 

“Still.” Quentin replied, but visibly beaming. 

“And here we are!” Eliot announced, tugging Quentin’s hand as he approached large glass doors to the high rise they had walked by. 

“El, this is a W Hotel. I thought we were going to Javu.” 

“Javu was the name of Monica’s restaurant on Friends. Nice try though. We are going to Evoo. It’s the new restaurant on the top floor. Don’t you listen when I talk? Quentin Coldwater were you trying to get in my pants while I shared something important with you?” Eliot gave him a shit eating grin as they walked through the lobby. 

“No I don’t think that I wa- ugh I don’t remember. Probably, honestly.” Quentin acquiesced. Eliot winked at him. 

A tall, broad man in a sharp black suit acknowledged them as they advanced across the lobby. He gave Eliot a dazzling smile and strode confidently across the mosaic tile floor towards them. Quentin’s mind immediately went haywire. Who was he? Quentin didn’t know him, so he must know Eliot. Or he didn’t know Eliot. Was he going to hit on Eliot? Didn’t he see Eliot holding his hand? What the fuck was this guy’s problem anyw-

Quentin’s internal dialogue kept silent as the beautiful man started to speak, holding out his hand to Eliot. 

“Mr. Waugh, so glad to see you this evening. Thank you for joining us. This must be Mr. Coldwater.” Quentin nodded quickly. 

“Mr. Coldwater my name is Idri Loria, I’m the General Manager here. It’s fantastic to meet you.” He extended his hand to Quentin. Quentin quickly stuck his hand out. “I’m Quentin Coldwater,” was all be managed out. 

Eliot just beamed down at his little spazz then turned his attention to Idri. 

“Mr. Waugh I apologize for the delay but the staff is still preparing your table upstairs. It shouldn’t be too long, but I’d like to invite you both to head to the bar to get a pre-dinner cocktail while you wait. One the house, of course.” He finished, handing Eliot a heavy black business card. 

“Not a problem Idri, really no need for an accommodation - but you know I can’t say no to a free drink so I suppose if you insist.” Idri laughed as Eliot took the extended card. 

“But if you happen to have any bar snacks would you mind sending something over? This one hasn’t eaten in three whole hours and as you can see he is wasting away.”

“I’m not wasting El. I’m fine I don’t need any spec-“ 

“It’s not a trouble at all Mr. Coldwater, I actually already have something prepared. No put-out at all. If you both want to head over to the bar there is a table waiting for you.”

Eliot and Idri shook hands once more before he and Quentin walked over to the bar. 

“This place is super swanky El. I’ve never been to a restaurant where the GM welcomed us.” Quentin whispered as they reached the entry point to the bar. 

“Hi Mr. Waugh! So good to see you! Your table is waiting right this way.” A short blonde hostess greeted them as soon as they approached the stand and immediately led them to a small table tucked into the corner of the large dark bar area. It had a white “reserved” sign in cursive script. 

“Do you already have a drink in mind or would you like the menu?” She asked as they both took a seat. “Would you mind if I ordered, Q? Or is there something specific you’d like?”

“Oh no, whatever you recommend is fine. I’d just order a beer if you didn’t.” 

The waitress laughed like it was the funniest thing she’d ever heard. Quentin knew she was just being nice but he appreciated it anyway. 

“Can we have two glasses of the Armand de Brignac Brut Gold? Since the hotel is covering it.” Eliot winked as he handed her the card Idri just handed him a moment ago. “That is exactly what I would order. I’ll be back in a moment with them.” 

“El what is going on here? This is like crazy treatment. I know this isn’t normal.” Quentin narrowed his eyes. Eliot feigned shock. 

“Can’t I treat my boyfriend to a special night out without being accused of something?” 

“It’s not even an anniversary or anything.” Quentin left out a puff of breath. Then he remembered his conversation with Margo and attempted to backtrack. “Not that I don’t appreciate it. This is just already a really really nice date and I haven’t been able to treat you to something nice like this and-” Eliot kissed his knuckles and Quentin fell silent. 

“You know it’s not a competition, baby. You don’t think I’m trying to like... outdo you or anything right?” Eliot asked cautiously. 

“No no, I know. I just. I’m sorry I’m making this weird. I just am not like.. cultured like you are and I don’t pull off planning these fancy dates well like you do. I just feel bad that you don’t get this kind of date from me.”

Eliot’s eyes softened and he leaned across the table to stroke Quentin’s cheek. Quentin would normally balk at the intimacy in such a crowded bar, but looking into Eliot’s eyes like this he couldn’t find himself to care. It also helped they were in such a private table. 

The moment was briefly interrupted by the waitress silently bring the two glasses over, and a waiter with her dropping off a charcuterie tray. Quentin blushed and they left quickly and silently as Eliot slowly pulled his hand from Quentin’s face and reached out to take his hand. 

“Baby, any date that you take the time out of your day to plan for me and spend with me... it’s the most amazing date. We could be home, out, at the nicest restaurant in the world or that god forsaken dive bar in Brooklyn that you like so much. I don’t care if you’re dressed up like this or in your sweats. Admittedly I have a preference for dates where you aren’t wearing anything at all,” Eliot wagged his eyebrows while Quentin stuck his tongue out. “Seriously. I don’t do this because I want you to feel like you... like you owe me something. I just… like doing this.”

“Can I tell you a secret?” Quentin asked, pulling a piece of prosciutto off of the board with his free hand to take a bite. 

“Anything, my love.” Eliot rubbed his thumb in soft circles around the pulse point of Quentin’s wrist. 

“Even though I act super awkward on these dates, it’s just because I’m super awkward as, you know, a human. I do like getting really dressed up to impress you. And it’s really hot seeing you act all high kingly again.” 

Eliot grinned at him, unlocked their hands, and picked up his champagne flute. He held it up. “To still having it” he said with a chuckle. “To my king.” Quentin replied, lightly chinking their glasses, and drinking most of it down in one gulp. Eliot grinned at him over a small sip of his. 

“I hope you know that basically just chugged a $150 glass of champagne.” Eliot said with a smile. 

“WHAT?!” Quentin screeched, placing the glass down and flipping through the cocktail menu on the table to confirm this. The people closest to their table turned quickly to see what the ruckus was about. Eliot just smiled as he took another sip. 

“That will teach Idri not to hand out those on-the-house cards to people like me.” He said with a shrug and sip. 

—————————————————-

Eliot leaned casually against the elevator wall. The - Quentin didn’t even know who he was; receptionist, maître d', security, waiter, concierge, this whole situation was more confusing than usual - person leading them to the restaurant stood nearest to the doors facing towards them with his hands latched behind his back. Quentin assumed it was to give him and Eliot privacy, but it wasn’t like Quentin was going to jump Eliot in the elevator. Eliot smiled behind the curls that had fallen in front of his eyes as he caught Quentin ogling him. Ok, the chances were very low but possible that Quentin would jump Eliot in the elevator. 

The elevator dinged as it reached the 42nd floor of the 45 story hotel. The doors opened into a sleek and modern foyer - ornately embellished walls stood behind chrome and white leather furniture. The gentlemen leading them pressed his key card to an access point on the wall and opened the doors to a sprawling living room. 

“Eliot, this isn’t a restaurant.” Quentin gasped, walking through the room - it reminded him of the living space in the loft they all lived in when....

Quentin shook his head. This place was nothing like that. It was somehow even more modern, more minimalist, and had floor-ceiling windows instead of outer walls that showcased the glittering New York City skyline that it was in the middle of. 

“It’s not. I might have lied just a little bit.” He grinned watching Quentin take it all in. 

“Ok so can I get a little clarity?” Quentin asked, wandering around the room and running his fingers over the grey marble fireplace in the middle of the room. 

“Ok so.... I realize, my love, that my grand gestures are a little off-putting to you.” Eliot shrugged. 

“Yeah it really looks like you toned it down, El.” Quentin snorted as he turned to face him. 

Eliot grinned back. “But I know it’s only because you have social anxiety. Well, mainly because you have social anxiety. That a lot of it has to do with feeling like you’re on parade in front of everyone else, right?” 

“Mostly.” Quentin agreed with a small nod. He leaned his back again the fireplace, then turned his head again. Where did that concierge/bellman/security guard go?

Eliot walked towards him to place his hands on either side of his face and Quentin couldn’t find it in him to care where that guy went. Eliot kissed Quentin’s forehead. 

“I know the grandiosity in general is off-putting. But I can’t help myself. I like doing grand things for you. It makes me unbelievably happy to-“

“El, I don’t want you to think that I don’t-“

Eliot grazed his right thumb from its place on Quentin’s cheek to rest against his lips. 

“I know baby. But I also recognize what you want and need. As well as what I want and need. And I thought maybe, maybe a compromise might work for the both of us tonight? So I did a little thinking about how to give us both a nice night while weighing our unique perspectives on a good date. 

“Dinner will be here, in this suite. We have a pretty fantastic chef cooking us a meal I curated. The only other person here is a waiter, and once the final course is served they’ll both leave. We finish dinner,” 

Eliot leaned in, lips brushing against Quentin’s ear as he spoke “I strip you out of this amazingly sexy suit as slow as humanly possible and I do everything to your body that I know makes you scream without you having to worry about anyone being close enough to hear.” He completed this description with a kiss to the ear as Quentin ducked his head and whispered “Fuck, Eliot.”

Eliot pulled back and began speaking again at regular volume. “Our sweatpants are in the bedroom. I figured after that we can get some quality cuddle time in while raiding the minibar and watching that documentary about The Shining you’ve been mentioning. Or we can try to find Star Wars or Star Trek On Demand. Baby’s choice.” Eliot finished with smile and no mocking tone that he typically used when speaking about Quentin’s TV preferences. 

“What did I do to deserve you?” Quentin asked, tucking the loose strand of hair behind his ear while looking down at his shoes. He needed a moment to process everything. After a beat Eliot tilted Quentin’s face up to meet his eyes. “Margo’s going to kick your ass when I tell her you touched your hair.” He grinned. 

“Not if I kick yours first for being a brat.” Quentin couldn’t help smiling at him. 

“Yeah? Come at me, Coldwater.” Eliot challenged matching Quentin’s smile. Quentin just threw his arms around Eliot’s neck. “I love you. You’re perfect. This is perfect. I can’t believe you’re mine.” He whispered, rolling onto the balls of his feet to kiss Eliot deeply. 

A few moment passed and then Eliot broke the kiss. “Ok, I think we should find the waiter. We abandoned him a bit.”

He took Quentin’s hand and led him around the fireplace to the other side of the living room. He pushed open a pair of frosted glass doors into the dining room. It was just as minimalist and modern. The table was small enough that Eliot and Quentin could hold hands across the table if they wanted, but large enough to hold place settings for a tasting menu as well as crystal candle holders and white and red flowers. The waiter from the elevator was standing there smiling and pulled chairs out for the both of them. 

Quentin took Eliot’s hand and squeezed as soon as Eliot was seated. His face in the candlelight was breathtaking. 

——————————————————-

Dinner was exactly what Quentin assumed an Eliot Waugh curated dinner would be. The chef came out to greet them, and Eliot impressed Quentin by conversing with him in perfect French (they weren’t speaking about spells so Quentin was lost though he caught a few words from context clues). 

  
Quentin had admittedly been worried about the menu, especially after hearing the chefs resume - he was expecting a meal of things he mostly would have to pretend to stomach. However Eliot wasn’t lying when he said he created the menu, it was all things that Quentin already enjoyed just more exquisitely prepared than he had experienced before. “A mature menu for an immature pallet” Eliot has joked as they finished the final dishes - roasted duck with herbed potatoes and a small plate of cheeses, both paired with complimentary white wine. 

The meal had been perfect without being overwhelmingly stuffing. Eliot has forgone a traditional American dessert course. Both the chef and the waiter had said their goodbyes after the cheese plate had been laid down in the table. 

“Mr. Coldwater, would you like to join me on the balcony to take in the view of the city?” Eliot asked holding out his hand.

Quentin accepted his offer and followed him out.

The night was stunning. It was cool and clear. There was a slight breeze that gave Eliot a perfect (though unnecessary) excuse to wrap Quentin even tighter in his arms. He laid his chin on Quentin’s shoulder and closed his eyes. 

“What are you thinking right now, Q?” he asked nuzzling his cheek into Quentin’s ear.

“How deliriously happy I am... How perfect you are... How good that gazpacho was... How freaked out I am about you graduating.” Quentin replied evenly.

“Elaborate?” Eliot requested softly.

“I just never thought I would like cold soup but something about the blend of tomato and-”

“Brat.” Eliot chuckled while gently biting Quentin’s earlobe.

Quentin turned his head to kiss Eliot softly before staring back out into the city lights while Eliot’s chin reclaimed its rightful spot on his shoulder. A few comfortable moments of silence passed as Q gathered his thoughts.

“I know we’ve talked about you graduating already. I know we are going to stay together. I just… we don’t know where you’re going to end up, El. I won’t be able to see you every day. Maybe not every week. I just… I love you. I love you so much. And I’m just afraid of you leaving. And I know that most of my fears boil down to my irrational thoughts, I really do. I just have this recurring fear that you’re going to go out into the real world and find someone that is so much less work than me.”

“But who will I find that is as sexy as you and knows the difference between Star Wars and Star Trek?” Eliot whispered.

“You make a valid point.” Quentin nodded, letting his head fall back onto Eliot’s shoulder.

“My love,” Eliot continued in a whisper, softly kissing Quentin’s neck and going back to resting his chin on his shoulder, “I know I have given you plenty of reasons in the past to doubt me. I will spend the rest of my life undoing that.”

“El it’s not-”

“The rest of my life. And that is not your fault. I’m the one that sowed those seeds of doubt. Anyone in their right mind would share your fears. And I know that your mind is not always your friend, and that just amplifies everything. I don’t know what I can do or say to prove to you how much I love you… how little I care about anyone or anything else in this world. In any world. I know that I just need to hope you are able to take a misguided leap of faith for me and let me prove to you every day through my actions how absolutely dedicated I am to you.

“You say you are work like I consider you a chore. Quentin we’re both work. We are both so fucking messy. Jesus can you think of one couple like….ever, real or imagined, that’s been through the shit we’ve been through – apart and together? Q, every reason you give me to “work” for you makes me love you more. You challenge me in ways I never thought possible, and getting your love in return is the greatest reward I could have ever hoped for. I would take years of fighting with you, taking care of you on your bad brain days, you telling me the same argument of the allegorical superiority of _Fillory and Further _over_ Narnia_ over one hour in the company of anyone else in the world…. Expect Margo of course, and that’s only because you would naturally be there too and she would stop the literary comparison.”

“Naturally.” Quentin laughed, voice cracking, as he wiped away the tear falling down his cheek.

“Quentin, you are my greatest achievement. I can absolutely find someone that is less work than you, but they’re not worth the ease.”

Quentin turned his head to meet Eliot’s eyes, tears slowly escaping over his lower lids. “El-” he began.

Eliot silenced him by capturing Quentin’s lips between his own. Eliot’s left hand came up to rest on Quentin’s throat while his right settled on his waist. The kiss was strong. It was soft. It was overwhelming and not enough. It sealed promises. It was the kiss that years of longing and hurt and fighting and passion led to.

When they broke apart - either hours or just a moment after it started, neither knew - Eliot spun Quentin around to face him and kissed away the tears still on Quentin’s cheeks.

He sniffed. “Um... ditto to you.”

Eliot laughed deeply and kissed him on his forehead. “What a way you have with words, Coldwater. I’m flattered.”

“I just need like, a while to process all that.”

“I’ll give you forever.” Eliot replied with another kiss to the forehead.

“I hate how smooth you are.” Quentin grumbled into his chest.

“No you don’t.”

“No I don’t.”

Quentin kissed Eliot’s chin before resuming his previous position, leaning his back into Eliot’s chest.

“I don’t have to go far. Honestly I can stay in the Cottage for another year until you graduate. I don’t need to work yet – I can just keep using that ATM spell that Julia taught me and lavish you with these dates every day until we are both ready to move.”

“Yeah I really wish you would stop using that spell actually. I’m really worried you are going to get caught.”

“I would not fare well in prison.” Eliot responded solemnly.

“No you really wouldn’t so please knock it off.” Quentin said seriously.

“It was just like 5 times.” Eliot mumbled into his neck.

“Five too many.”

“I promise, baby.” Eliot said, holding his pinky out in front of Q.

Quentin linked their pinkies and brought their hands up to kiss where their fingers joined.

They stood in silence for a few minutes.

“I will have to move, Q.” Eliot whispered.

“I know.”

“I can stay local. I can find work here in the city. We have a portal. It’s in the same time zone. We can still spend every night together. It can be easy.”

Quentin let his head drop back onto Eliot’s shoulder again.

“Since when do we do easy?” He laughed.

“We can start. Quentin our whole lives have been off-road struggle buses. We can make the next chapter smooth. It makes sense. It’s not impossible. It can be just like this. Though, you know, on a lower floor since you are so morally sound.”

Quentin reached back to playfully tug Eliot’s hair.

“It could be easy, if you find a job in the city. But… I don’t want you to limit yourself, El. Don’t settle for a job here because of me. That would destroy me. Wherever you go, we’ll make it work. I’ll have my moments like this where I feel panicked no matter where you go. And you’ll be there to help me through it. And you’ll have moments where you want to give up because you don’t think you deserve whatever great job you get. And I’ll be there to help you through it. And Margo will be screeching at both of us the entire time.”

Eliot buried his forehead into Quentin’s shoulder.

“I love you, Eliot Waugh. You are my everything.” Quentin whispered.

Eliot breathed into his neck. “Ditto to you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Using Idri's name even though the story is set in cannon because like, creative license?
> 
> The next chapter: the boys get naked. It's what we are really want.


	3. I See Stars in Your Eyes When We're Halfway There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The bangin' of it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ::Blushes for three full hours::
> 
> Welcome to my first ever posted sex scene.

They talked a while longer alternating between whispering declarations of love and rehashing stories about the antics of their friends and classes. Eliot stood behind Quentin, hands inside his jacket running his hands lazily up and down his sides and randomly placing kisses on his neck. 

“I want to fuck you out here for a while baby. What do you think about that?” Eliot whispered into Quentin’s ear between kisses.

“Um… actually yellow light to that.” 

“Ok baby. Talk me through your feelings - we can either figure it out or hard stop it. What’s going on in here?” Eliot kissed Quentin’s temple then spun him around so they were eye to eye. Eliot held Quentin’s hands in his. 

“Ok. Um I like the idea of doing something we aren’t supposed to. That’s really hot. I like the idea of possibly being seen or heard, but I really don’t like the idea of actually being seen or heard at all. I know the chances are low, I mean most of the buildings around us are offices, and like I can’t imagine too many people are working at... 9:30 on a Saturday, but still. Also there are two floors above us with balconies, and they would definitely hear us if they were outside,” Quentin said. 

“Ok, thank you for sharing that.” Eliot kissed Quentin’s nose. “Anything else?” Quentin bit his lip and looked past Eliot’s shoulder so he could focus. 

“I think that’s it. I... I think the theory is really hot, but it’s just being seen that worries me. For obvious reasons it worries me because I don’t want us to get in trouble, but like also it would just ruin it, ya know? Like I don’t want to be interrupted by anything when we’re fucking. That something including myself, I know I would get really embarrassed and want to stop if someone saw us.” Quentin said easily. He mentally congratulated himself. A few months ago this kind of conversation would be virtually impossible. Quentin would never be able to share what he did and didn’t want, especially if he thought he was hurting Eliot’s feelings. After a LOT of (what Quentin felt was) awkward conversations and Eliot explaining how important consent was to him in every possible form, Quentin got more comfortable with taking about sex and his likes and dislikes. 

“Ok, so it’s the getting caught that you don’t like. Not the idea of being pleasured outside in general that gives you pause? Is that right?” Eliot confirmed, eyes locked into Quentin’s. 

“Um, yeah. Actually, ok so I don’t think I want to have like, sex-sex out here. Like I don’t want your dick in my ass out here. I can’t really put my finger on why right now. I just don’t think that’s what I want. I want to be in bed with you when we fuck tonight. I’m not ruling out sex outside forever, just not want I want tonight.” 

“Ok. Thank you again baby. You don’t have to have a reason. If it doesn’t feel right we don’t do it, right?” Quentin nodded and earned a soft kiss on the lips. 

“Alright, so questions. If I could put a ward around the balcony, one where no one could see us or hear us, would that be ok for you to move forward or no? Please tell me honestly, my love.” 

“Green light. Definitely green light. I like the idea that someone could see us. Knowing they actually can’t would make me feel completely comfortable.”

“Ok. So no dick inside you out here. What are you ok with out here? Can I touch your dick? Suck it? Can I put my fingers inside you?”

Eliot sounded like he was asking what show Quentin’s wanted to watch on TV tonight. Quentin loved how nonchalant and practical Eliot was about sex. It put him at ease.

“Yes to all of those.”

Eliot nodded and leaned in to kiss Quentin deeply. 

“Ok baby. If at any point you change your mind, any point at all, what do you say?” Eliot quizzed. “Red light,” Quentin responded automatically. 

“Such a good boy. I’m going to set the ward now. Do you want to watch the spell?” 

“I trust you, El. I know you’re not lying about setting it.”

“I appreciate that but not my question. Do you want to watch so you can double check me to ensure it’s right?”

Quentin signed. “Yeah, I guess it would put me in a better place to see it myself.” Quentin admitted. Eliot smiled and nodded. He took two steps back, closed his eyes and brought both hands in front of his face in prayer position. He then began to incant in Japanese and opened his eyes while performing quick and intricate tuts. He completed the spells by tracing the pointer and middle fingers of each hand along the length and height of the balcony. When his hands returns to prayer position in front of his face Quentin saw a wall of blue fire light up for a second around the balcony before disappearing. 

“Check me.” Eliot requested. It wasn’t an option. Quentin created a screen with the thumb and forefingers of both hands and checked the length of the balcony. 

“It’s flawless El. Holy shit, it’s strong. There is even a vibration cancellation in here.” Quentin lowered the screen. “El the balcony is concrete. That might have been a bit overkill” Quentin laughed. Eliot barely smirked as he advanced on Quentin. 

“I intend to make you scream louder than you think possible tonight Q. Can’t be too safe.” He pushed Quentin into the balcony kissing his face, mouth, neck.

“Color?” Eliot demanded.

“Fucking neon green El.”

Eliot grinned. “You look so amazing in this outfit baby, do you know that?” He said into Quentin’s mouth.

“You might have mentioned,” he nodded. Quentin’s head was tipped back and Eliot placed kisses from his chin down to his Adams apple, the top two shirt buttons already undone. 

“I don’t think I want you out of it yet.”

Eliot stepped back, assessing Quentin then stalking around him like he was prey. “Definitely not yet. This deserved a little more time,” Eliot continued, stepping back into Quentin’s space. His hands found his waist again and started untucking his shirt from his pants then sliding one of his hands under the hem of the shirt. He brought the other hand up to the back of Quentin’s neck and pulled him in for a deep kiss while stroking the soft hair on his stomach. The hand on his stomach soon descended to dip his fingers into the waistband of Quentin’s pants but the belt effectively stopped him from getting much further. 

“This won’t do.” He whispered while pushing Quentin back until the small of his back hit the stone balcony ledge. Quentin rested his elbows on it and Eliot finally pulled away from the kiss to trial his lips down the button line of his shirt until he reached his pants. 

Eliot glanced up at Quentin’s face through his lashes to read for any hesitation but Quentin’s head was lolled back in complete relaxation. Assured for now, Eliot began to undo the belt buckle - his lips moved to his clothed crotch to plant kisses along Quentin’s semi-hard length. The buckle undone, Eliot nuzzled his crotch and began to maneuver Q.

“Can you spread your legs just a little bit baby? Yeah that’s perfect.” His hands moved to the zipper of Quentin’s slacks and pulled it down.

“Check in?” He asked before moving further.

“Extremely green. Greenest green.” Eliot nodded and pulled the waistband of his underwear and slacks down together so slightly, just enough to pull Quentin’s dick and balls out while his forehead rested on Quentin’s stomach. 

“Look at this fucking man I get to pleasure all night. Everyday. Forever. What a lucky guy I am, this beautiful perfect man is all for me.” 

Quentin whimpered as Eliot trailed kisses from his belly button down to the base of his cock without actually touching the skin there. Eliot let his shirt go and the hem of the button down rested on the top of his shaft. 

“Hand in my hair. Feel free to pull.” Eliot then places just the tip of Quentin’s cock into his mouth. Quentin’s right hand snaked into Eliot’s curls while his left arm still braced himself against the balcony. He let his head fall back then turned his head to take in the view of the city around him. It was an overwhelming feeling, seeing so many signs of life around him so open while he was shamelessly getting his dick sucked in one of the penthouse balconies of this hotel. 

All thought left his mind as Eliot released the suction from the head of his cock and then used quick and messy lapping motions on it with his mouth open wide around it.

“Eliot please.” Quentin whined, shamelessly tugging at Eliot’s hair and willing him to close his mouth around him or take him deeper. Eliot pulled back completely and Quentin groaned. 

“Impatient boys have to wait longer. It builds character.” Eliot grinned up at him, sticking out his tongue to lap luxuriously at the underside of Quentin’s cock head before putting his tongue back in his mouth. 

“You’re a very mean boyfriend, Eliot Waugh.” Quentin breathed out. 

Eliot sat back on his heels, seeming to consider this. “Hmmm, I hate being considered mean. I suppose I can continue so you can come all over my face out here. Would you like that baby? Do you want to see me kneeling out here in my favorite suit with your come dripping all over my face?”

“Oh Jesus Christ Eliot yes please.” 

“Will you do something for me first?”

“It fucking depends Eliot,” Quentin growled. His cock was now fully hard and completely throbbing. 

Eliot smirked up at him then proceeded to spit on his cock. 

“Touch yourself for me. I wanna see you give yourself pleasure first.” 

Quentin did not need to be told twice. The hand in Eliot’s hair immediately went to the spot slick with spit and slowly began to stroke himself, luxuriating in the feeling of finally having pressure on his dick and also Eliot’s hungry eyes entranced with the movements. Precum began to bead at his tip, so he ran his hand down to massage his head and then distribute the stickiness along his shaft. A moan involuntarily left his lips as he let his head loll back again. Somewhere far away Quentin heard Eliot say, “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

A minute passed while he kept the steady and slow rhythm, gently massaging the tip every time he reached the head. Eliot’s fingers ghosting along his hips brought him back to reality.

“What are you thinking right now Quentin?” Eliot’s voice was so husky. 

“I’m thinking how good this feels. I’m pretending it’s your hand on me. How I can’t wait to mark your face with my come. I’m thinking how hot it is that you’re watching me get myself off but that I’d really like to feel your mouth on me.”

Quentin felt Eliot’s soft wet tongue at the place where his hand met his dick, moving for a few strokes in tandem with his hand.

“Feed me your dick Coldwater.” Eliot whispered, pulling away and opening his mouth. 

Quentin shifted his weight so he lift his left arm from the balcony to place the clean hand on the back of Eliot’s head but Eliot stopped him. 

“No. You can put the hand with your cum in my hair.”

“Fucking hell Eliot,” Quentin got a handful of Eliot’s hair and pulled him as hard as he knew he liked. He unbraced from the balcony and used his free hand to hold his cock and guide it directly into Eliot’s open mouth. As soon as Eliot closed his mouth around him Quentin went back to leaning against the stone railing for support. 

Eliot stopped teasing. He took Quentin all the way to the base, working through his gag reflex as he reached the back of his throat. He heard Quentin mumble something about gods, but was too focused at the task at hand to pay close attention to the praise. He continued to bob up and down on his cock, swirling his tongue to the precise spots he knew were most sensitive as he moved. After a few moments Eliot gave Quentin’s balls the attention they deserved, sucking on each of them individually while his hand continued to pump his length. Eliot decided to tune into the Quentin-sex-babble to get a status report.

“-you feel so fucking good. Fuck I love it when you take my dick like this. Oh baby please don’t – ahh!” The sound Quentin made as Eliot glided the fingers of his free hand across his perineum to the rim of his asshole was practically enough to bring him to climax, but he continued on his mission, inside of his pants successfully jizz-free. If his mouth wasn’t so busy he would have grinned as Quentin’s babbling was officially free of any actual words that were printed in an English dictionary. Regrettably he pulled off of Quentin.

“Can you turn around for me baby? Forearms on the ledge?” Eliot chuckled internally as Quentin did immediately as he was told, undeterred by the slacks and boxers shackling his ankles.

Eliot took a moment to appreciate the sight in front of him: his beautiful, trusting boyfriend half naked and slightly bent over for him, framed by the New York City skyline. He wondered if it would be inappropriate to have an oil painting of this scene hung in the bedroom of their future apartment together. Probably too gay, he decided.

He then began to spread and massage Quentin’s cheeks as his warm breath tickled his hole.

“Eliot,” Quentin whispered, half a plea and half a prayer.

With that, Eliot tongued Quentin’s rim. He made circles with the tip of his tongue, and lapped around it with the flat of it. He brought one of his hands around to pump Quentin’s cock while he ate him out.

The noises Quentin made were music to Eliot’s ears. They alternated between guttural mewls and breath-catching shrieks. Every time Eliot changed pace or technique Quentin’s cries changed and Eliot delighted in every sound he elicited.

Eventually he felt Quentin start to involuntarily thrust into Eliot’s hand as he stroked him. He recognized the ragged pants. Pulling his face away, Eliot used the pad of his thumb to rub Quentin’s rim. “Are you ready to come for me, baby?”

“I’m so… I’m so close El,”

Eliot steadied Quentin as he spun him around.

“I know you are baby,” Eliot purred as Quentin braced the ledge now behind him. “And you did so good for me so far,” he continued, stroking his cock. “You did so good. You are so beautiful. I want you to come for me. On me,” Eliot closed his eyes as Quentin’s hand found his hair. “That’s it baby, I just want you to feel good. You can come for me, baby.”

It only took two more strokes for Quentin to finally climax. Eliot kept his eyes closed and opened his mouth to catch as much as he could while the rest streaked across his checks, nose, and chin. When Quentin stopped spasming he opened his eyes, taking in his breathless boyfriend above him.

“Fuck,” Quentin breathed out.

“Feel alright?” Eliot grinned.

“You look so sexy like that,” Quentin panted.

“Oh yeah? You like marking me like this baby?” He asked, ignoring the crack in his knee as he straightened himself up.

Quentin licked a spot of semen from his jaw and Eliot shivered. “You’re mine,” Quentin whispered and Eliot agreed into his neck before pulling away.

“My drycleaner is going to have so many questions,” he chuckled as he stopped one drop of semen from falling from his chin to his shirt.

“Alright you,” Eliot began, kissing Quentin on the nose. “I’m going to go clean up and swish a little Listerine. You,” another kiss to the nose, “pull up your pants and get yourself into the bedroom. I want to strip you for real this time.”

“I suppose if you insist,” Quentin said as he shakily bent down to pull himself together.

El strolled into the bedroom grinning and wiping his face with the warm washcloth. Quentin had already collapsed onto the bed.

“Shit El, I think my entire body is Jell-O right now.”

“Good, you can lay back for this part anyway,” Eliot grinned, walking over to the cabinet across from the bed.

“Yes I love when I don’t have to do anything,” Quentin grinned, raising his arms in triumph.

Eliot crouched down to the mini bar at the bottom of the cabinet. “Snickers, M&M’s, or Twix?” Eliot asked as he pulled a bottle of water out of the fridge.

“Ummm…. your dick?” Quentin replied, confused.

Eliot laughed heartily. “I am attempting some mid-fucking aftercare. You had a bit of a break after a mind-blowing, you’re welcome, orgasm and I want to give you some literal sugar before you get some more figurative sugar. Allow me to be a nice partner.”

Quentin ‘hmph’-ed but smiled in spite of himself. “M&M’s.” he replied. Eliot grabbed them then got into bed next to Quentin. Eliot tore the bag open and they passed it and the bottle of water back and forth.

“Grown-up sleepovers are pretty fantastic,” Quentin grinned while sneaking a kiss to Eliot’s jaw as he took a sip of water.

“Yeah this is pretty much how I imagined grown-up life to be,” Eliot smiled while turning to place the water bottle on the bedside table. Quentin did the same with the M&M’s.

Quentin pulled Eliot down onto him and initiated a passionate kiss, one hand locked in Eliot’s curls, the other running down his back and pressing every bit of him as close as possible.

“Absolutely what I imagined,” Quentin breathed as Eliot nipped along his jaw, hands working at the buttons of his shirt.

Eliot pulled Quentin up long enough to pull his suit jacket off his body and throw it across the room, then pushed him back down on the bed. “It’s so much better when I wear my regular clothes because like I would have been basically naked already,” Quentin bantered as Eliot continued working at his buttons. Eliot laughed into his collarbone before pulling away.

“But when you have so few layers it is so difficult to do a proper striptease,” he countered.

Eliot scooched himself back so he could straddle Quentin’s thighs, then straightened himself up. He winked, then started slowly unbuttoning his vest while singing “I know I may come off quiet, I may come off shy. But I feel like talking, feel like dancing when I see this guy.”

“Oh God what is happening right now?” He laughed out as Eliot threw his head back and pulled his vest off.

Eliot leaned forward and sang into Quentin’s neck “What's practical is logical, what the hell, who cares? All I know is I'm so happy when you're dancing there,” while Quentin said between laughs, “I cannot believe you are stripping to Britney Spears a capella karaoke.”

Eliot then straightened himself up again. “Don’t interrupt, this is my big moment,” he chastised.

“Very sorry,” Quenting chuckled.

“I’m a sllllllaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaavvveee for youuuuuuu.” Eliot wailed, one hand on Quentin’s chest, the other whipping his vest in a circle above his head.

Quentin was convulsing in laughter. “I’m so emotionally and sexually conflicted right now.”

Eliot let the vest go mid-twirl and the vest flew across the room. He then loosened his tie and started undoing the buttons on his shirt. “I cannot hold it, I cannot control it.” Eliot gave Quentin some deep shoulder action and faux-serious singer faces. Quentin placed both hands behind his head while smirking.

Eliot shimmied his hips while singing, “I'm a slave for you, I won't deny it, I'm not trying to hide it”.

Eliot reached the last button of his shirt. He reached up to undo his tie but Quentin stopped him. “Keep the tie on,” he requested, laughing subsided.

Eliot cocked an eyebrow. “Yeah?” he asked.

Quentin brought one of his hands from behind his head to wrap the end of the tie around it once, the tugged Eliot down until their lips brushed.

“Yeah,” he whispered. 

“Anything you say, Mr. Coldwater,” he replied, lips and noses brushing together. Eliot straightened himself up, pulling his button-down off and throwing it towards the foot of the bed.

Quentin’s hands traveled up Eliot’s knees, over his thighs, up to his belt buckle. He undid it while maintaining eye contact then pulled the belt from Eliot’s hips and threw it towards the floor. His hands went back to undo Eliot’s button and zipper.

“Don’t think since you’re helping me strip that I’m sharing my tips with you,” Eliot breathed, attempting to joke but succumbing to the anticipation. His cock had been hard since he started getting Quentin off.

“I want you inside me,” Quentin whispered. Eliot’s pupils dilated and he swallowed. Quentin’s hands trailed from Eliot’s undone zipper to his length straining through silk boxers.

Eliot closed his eyes and allowed Quentin to give him a few languid stokes through his boxers. “I want you to come inside me, El. You have been so amazing tonight. I want you to take me any way you want and then come inside me.” His pace never hurried.

“Fucking hell, Coldwater,” Eliot moaned, collapsing onto Quentin’s bare chest, lips and teeth and his throat, rucking their hips together slowly. After a moment, Eliot shifted off of him to pull off his own slacks and underwear.

“I’ll have you know,” Eliot began again as Quentin did the same with his clothes, “that I had an impressive second number of Genuwine’s ‘Pony’ while I stripped you all planned out.”

Quentin couldn’t help but let out a laugh despite how feral he felt. “Raincheck,” he promised before Eliot winked and flipped him over onto his stomach, pulling him up at the hips.

Quentin dug his head into his forearms as Eliot ate him out from behind. Eliot’s tongue continued its dance from earlier, coaxing itself just into Quentin’s tight rim. For a while the only sounds in the room were Eliot’s wet mouth and Quentin’s soft sighs.

Eliot finally leaned over to grab the lube he stashed on the bedside and coated his fingers. “Ready?” he whispered into the cleft of Quentin’s ass.

“Green light,” he replied into the down comforter underneath him.

Quentin groaned contentedly as Eliot’s first finger worked its way inside of him. Eliot knew how Quentin liked to be opened, knew the pace, where to hit, where to stroke. It wasn’t long before a second finger slid it, warm and wet, working in tandem with the first. Quentin’s groans turned more needy as the third finger slipped in and Eliot started purring filthy promises into the small of Quentin’s back. By the time the fourth finger made its way in, Quentin was already begging for more.

“You’re so good to me,” Eliot breathed as he pulled out of Quentin and coaxed him onto his back. “I want to see you,” he said, meeting Quentin’s eyes as he settled beneath him.

Eliot glanced down with intention and Quentin nodded short and sure. Eliot guided himself in, slowly, allowing Quentin to stretch around him. Every primal part of him screamed to go faster, harder, deeper but he grounded himself in Quentin’s eyes. Once he was fully sheathed inside, he dipped his head down to kiss Quentin’s collarbone. He moved so slowly he wanted to scream, but instead whispered, “How do you feel, baby?”

“El, fuck, so good. I’m so good. You can move. Please give it to me, El.” Quentin choked out between groans.

With that Eliot lifted himself up, either arm braced on either side of Quentin’s head, as he began to thrust into the man below him. The pace was steady and sure at first, both never losing eye contact, both meeting each other’s movements in time.

“Touch yourself,” Eliot grunted gently. Quentin did not protest, taking one of his hands from Eliot’s shoulders to stoke himself to Eliot’s thrusts.

Soon, the pace turned more hurried. Pants came quicker and whispers started to slur. Eliot felt his biceps start to burn, but he couldn’t find himself to care about the pain.

“Let me ride you until you come,” Quentin pleaded, and Eliot was happy to oblige. He slowly pulled himself out of Quentin, placed a pillow down under hips, and laid back to welcome his love back onto him. Quentin leaned over to kiss Eliot before getting in position to sink down onto him. One hand on Eliot’s chest, the other pulling at the tie still around his neck, Quentin began to ride Eliot. Eliot’s hands found Quentin’s hips while his eyes rolled to the back of his head. He eventually let Quentin pull him up by the tie to kiss him before falling back onto the bed. One hand trailed from hip to stomach, then found Quentin’s dick to stroke with the rhythm.

“God Quentin, I’m so close,” Eliot panted finally, not sure how long it had been since their last kiss, not sure how long Quentin had been drawing this pleasure out of him.

“Let go, El, I want to feel you come,” Quentin replied, voice cracking with every word. It was all the permission Eliot needed. His orgasm hit him like a wave. His eyes squeezed shut and the grip on Quentin’s hip tightened as Quentin literally rode him through it. Before he was fully spent he heard the tell-tale sound of Quentin’s orgasm and felt the heat of ropes of cum land on his chest and stomach. Quentin’s shrieked “ah’s” as he rode out his own orgasm brought forced Eliot to open his eyes so he could watch him in the final throws of pleasure. He was fucking beautiful, both hands on Eliot’s chest, one still with the tie wrapped around it, while his head was thrown back, dick limp and leaking on Eliot’s stomach. Quentin shuddered once more before opening his eyes and looking down at Eliot.

“El,” he breathed out.

Eliot helped Quentin off of him, luxuriating in the feeling of his spend falling back onto him as he did, and pulled Quentin down onto the bed on his side and flush against his chest, into his arms. He immediately began kissing the back of Quentin’s neck softly, whispering praise of “you are so good” and “thank you, my love” into his skin. Quentin held Eliot’s hand tightly to his chest. 

For a while they both lay there just listening to the sound of each other breathing. Finally Quentin regained enough strength to flip onto his other side, his hand coming up to stroke Eliot’s check.

“Thank you for the most perfect date night I could have asked for,” Quentin whispered, thumb gliding across Eliot’s lower lip. Eliot kissed Quentin’s thumb.

“Thank you for being the most perfect date I could have ever dreamed of,” Eliot replied, eyes ever leaving Quentin’s.

They lay there for a little longer, continuing their tradition of the evening of whispering promises and words of love to each other. Eliot finally pulled Quentin to rest his head against his chest.

“We really need to shower and burn this duvet,” Quentin said after a while.

“Do you think I should just leave the housekeeper all the cash in my wallet?” Eliot asked seriously.

“It’s probably not enough,” Quentin replied, hand slowly drawing around Eliot’s chest.

“Fuck, you’re right,” Eliot moaned in agreement.

“But seriously, we need to shower,” Quentin said after a few comfortable minutes.

Eliot sighed. “Just give me like 8 more hours,” he replied, throwing his arm over his eyes.

Quentin smiled into his chest. “Five minutes, El. We are pretty disgusting right now. I’ll order us coffee while we’re in the shower, too. You’re not getting out of your ‘baby’s-choice’ movie promise.”

Eliot huffed from behind his arm. “So much is happening and I feel like jelly,” he whined.

“Five minutes,” Quentin responded.

A few of their resting minutes passed.

All of the sudden Eliot started laughing.

“There is nothing more I like than when my partner bursts out into unexplained laughter when I’m naked in bed on top of them,” Quentin huffed, rolling over to find a pillow to cover his face. “What horribly embarrassing thing did I do?” He asked into the pillow.

“It’s not you at all, my love,” Eliot said between laughs while prying the pillow from Quentin’s face.

“It was just something stupid I thought of. When we were on the balcony and you were leaning over for me, I was wondering if I could get a painting of the scene done up on an oil canvas and hung up on my wall. But I decided that was a little too gay. You know, while I was eating your ass,” Eliot burst out laughing again as Quentin smirked and rolled his eyes.

“You’re such a loser. Come on, five minutes is up,” Quentin tugged on Eliot’s tie lightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Critiques definitely welcome. As a bi lady, I do not have real life experience with a sexual scenario of just two gay men, so I hope this translates realistically-ish. Eeep! Any and all critiques welcome!!!
> 
> Thanks to everyone reading and commenting and kudos-ing so far! You are making my first posted work so not-scary :-)


	4. With My Arms Around You, There's No Need To Care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The finale for our fluff-loving hearts.

Warm. Quentin was so warm.

He closed his eyes for a moment focusing on Eliot’s heartbeat under his cheek and the feeling of fingers absentmindedly grazing his scalp. He opened his eyes and focused on a small droplet of water slowly make its way down a lock of his hair and rest of Eliot’s chest. He really should have toweled off his hair more but every second he spent doing that was less seconds in bed in Eliot’s arms.

“He obviously doesn’t love Lavina. Follow your stupid heart, Matthew. Bang your cousin!” Eliot threw a cashew at the TV.

Quentin placed his hand on Eliot’s before another nut could assault the TV.

“In their defense they are distant cousins.”

He focused again on the TV as a smile creeped onto his face. He loved how into _Downton Abbey _Eliot had gotten. In the months following The Monster when Eliot was still learning how to live in his body and Quentin was still learning how to let himself be near it, they spent a lot of time sitting in the living room of the loft on separate sides of the sofa watching TV and movies. Eliot had already confessed his feelings and they had discussed trying to start a real relationship, but that was just one day when emotions and adrenaline were high. The reality and heaviness of everything did not allow for the smoothest transition into a normally functioning relationship. Conversations that needed to be had were on pause and they could only be alone together when they knew there was someone else shouting distance away. Thus, frequent Netflix binges with Margo or Julia hovering in the next room. Focusing on the TV gave them the excuse they needed to be in the same room while alleviating the pressure to make any kind of conversation. One day after they had exhausted the few options of mutually agreed-upon programing (programming they already knew they both liked, as talking about options and expressing opinions felt too overwhelming to either of them) Quentin hesitantly flipped on the first episode of _Downton Abbey _on a whim. He had never seen it but heard good reviews, and he knew there was a minor queer subplot which if nothing else would give Eliot something to critique as if he were the only gay man on the planet whose opinion on gay experience mattered. It turned out that the show had the history and whimsy that Quentin liked, enough decadence and scandal to classify it “not nerdy” enough for Eliot to enjoy, and absolutely no magic which was exactly what the doctor ordered for them both. They had binged the entire series in a weeks’ time, never straying from their respective sides of the sofa but exchanging the most pleasantries and quips between themselves since life had returned to normalcy.

Rewatching the series now, limbs entangled and skin-to-skin, was a much better experience.

Quentin felt his skin tingle as Eliot’s hand drew up and down his ribs, fingers reaching the waistband of Quentin’s sweatpants before turning around to start their journey again. After their shower Quentin had put on the soft grey pajama bottoms Eliot had brought only on principle – he thought it was very sweet of Eliot to think to bring them. Eliot had opted to get back in bed without anything on because, “we’ve already done such unspeakably unholy things in here, what’s the point of covering up now”, and Quentin appreciated the view too much to argue with his logic.

“I want pizza,” Quentin mumbled into Eliot’s chest. Eliot let out a satisfied huff of air.

“Thank God you said that. Not to say that my absolutely perfectly planned and executed dinner wasn’t filling and perfect in every way, which it was,”

Quentin recognized the lag in speech and interjected, “It was so good and filling and well thought-out and perfect,” and earning a soft laugh from Eliot.

“Good boy. It really was though. Anyway, not to say that it wasn’t, but the… recreational activities afterwards seemed to have worked up my appetite too,” Eliot finished solemnly, patting Quentin’s hair.

“Recreational activities?” Quentin asked, eyebrow raised.

“I will not speak vulgarly in the presence of the Dowager Countess. She does not need to know about our sin,” Eliot replied haughtily, pushing himself up to a sitting position. Quentin fell into his lap.

Eliot grinned wickedly. 

“You know, honestly didn’t think that move through but now that this played out fuck the Dowager Countess she can have a front row seat to our sin.”

Quentin rolled his eyes as he chucked also pushed up to sitting, getting his face away from Eliot’s naked lap.

“Cool it, Casanova. It’s pizza time and I know you care about the Dowager’s opinion of you.”

“Honestly, almost as much as Margo’s,” Eliot replied solemnly.

With that Eliot kissed Quentin’s forehead and hoped out of the bed and walked towards the living room. Quentin wasn’t exactly sure where he was going but was too comfortable in their nest to follow. He kicked the covers off of his legs, pushed himself up more to get comfortable against the headboard, and let his eyes fall closed as he dropped his head back.

Bliss. This was bliss.

He couldn’t have fathomed this even a year ago. Well, a year ago they were in the midst of madness and Quentin wasn’t even himself so definitely not a year ago. But before. This was a distant dream. That day when he put everything on the line in that throne room and Eliot brushed him off – Quentin’s stomach turned thinking of that afternoon. The thought was quickly replaced with another memory – seven months ago, lying in a hospital bed, Eliot hobbling over without his cane, stroking his face, confessing, asking, barely waiting for a response before capturing Quentin’s lips in a gentle kiss. Eliot almost collapsing to the floor under his own weight, Julia entering the room at the perfect time to catch him, Eliot’s eyes never leaving Quentin’s even as she called for a nurse to come help as it became apparent that Eliot couldn’t hold himself up.

Eliot walked back in the room, starting to speak without looking up from his phone.

“So room service is done for the night, but I found a few late night delivery places on Yelp. I know you’ve somehow spent more time in the city than me, do you know of or have a preference between Bleecker Street or Prince Street Pizza?”

“I literally know nothing about either of them – just call whoever’s closer and come back to bed,” Quentin replied while making grabby hands at Eliot. Eliot smirked and got on the bed to straddle Quentin’s lap as he dialed. He placed the order over the phone, giving Quentin deep kisses anytime he wasn’t actively speaking. It felt like hours before he finally hung up. He finally did and chucked the phone to the end of the bed before flipping them over.

“They said it would be about 30 minutes. Want to finish this episode or make out like horny teenagers until they get here?” Eliot asked, hands on Quentin’s hips began moving surely up his sides.

“The latter,” he replied, lowering himself down to meet Eliot’s lips.

Their kisses were rhythmic and unhurried. Eliot’s fingers ghosted over the muscles in Quentin’s back that moved as he braced himself up over him. Minutes passed before Quentin slowly pulled his lips away.

“Hey,” he smiled, looking down at a content-faced partner.

“Hey.”

“Um,” Quentin started, and instead of finishing his thought he lowered himself to give Eliot a quick kiss.

“Eloquent,” Eliot smiled as Quentin pulled away.

Quentin lowered himself onto the bed, lying next to Eliot. He intertwined their fingers and let his head fall to the side to gaze at Eliot’s profile.

“I know that we both have a lot of work to do on ourselves, and together, but I just want to let you know that I’m really happy that… that we both decided to give us a shot.”

Eliot knew that there were about 15 different avenues of thought that Quentin went down before he delivered that little speech. And he knew through the course of the night Quentin would walk him down each of them – Eliot was fairly certain that he was familiar with each already. He would wait for Quentin to lead him. He always did.

“Thank you for not giving up on me,” Eliot replied simply.

Their eyes were locked as Quentin whispered, “_never_”.

Eliot brought his hand up to Quentin’s cheek, leaned over and slowly pressed his lips to his. They lay like that for a while kissing slower than before, luxuriating in being this close, having this much time, allowing themselves to be this soft. 

The phone rang, breaking them out of their trance. Quentin groaned, rolled across the bed to grab the phone from the nightstand. “Umm yeah, this is him. Yeah. Yeah that’s fine you can send him up.” Quentin dropped the phone back onto the receiver.

“They asked if I was Mr. Waugh,” he said with a laugh as he kissed Eliot’s cheek.

“Too short,” Eliot laughed as Quentin smacked his chest and jumped out of the bed.

“I suppose I’m grabbing the pizza?”

“You do wear the pants in this relationship,” Eliot said, batting his eyelashes and reaching over to tug at Quentin’s sweats. Quentin chuckled while rolling his eyes and walking through the door to the living room to wait for the delivery person to arrive.

Eliot scrubbed his hands across his face and then stretched his arms out to the sides. He took a second to stretch his legs then swung them over the side of the bed, hoisted himself up and padded across the room to grab the silky robe he had brought from home. He shrugged into it and tied it up before smacking gently at one of the pockets, feeling the small box against his hand. This wasn’t the exact moment he had planned on doing this. There was a whole sunrise to-do planned and a very apt speech about the sun rising on the rest of their lives that Eliot has painstakingly crafted to fall just this side of touching-not-corny. All for naught.

He huffed.

But that but the front desk _had_ asked if Quentin was Mr. Waugh which felt like a tiny sign from above (he could probably fit that anecdote in somehow), and honestly a proposal over 1am pizza did seem very Quentin-esque. Oh well, they could still have mimosas on the balcony at sunrise and he would definitely tell Quentin later what his plan _was_ so he could know just how Eliot-esque this proposal was_ supposed_ to be. He ran his hands through his hair while walking out to the living room.

“El, they gave us free cinnamon bites! This is the best night!” Quentin hollered as he carried the food from the front door to the kitchen.

“It is,” Eliot replied to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally not supposed to end in a proposal but.... it did! These boys just LOVE each other!
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading and supporting my first venture into fic :-D 
> 
> All critiques welcome!!!


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